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empressxmachina · 4 years

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Patients Zero - iii. by Imperial-Radiance

~Also on Wattpad~

*gasp* *cough*

Oh, good god. What? I thought I was— But, how am I—? Didn’t I get—? Wait, where am I?

Hard: I’m on something hard. Hard, flat, slick, and cold. My back hates this. I’m guessing it’s a floor. But I feel grooves, not just one that takes up my entire hand. It almost feels… made for me. Impossible. My eyes; they’re closed. It’s dark, behind and in front of the lids. Yet, there’s a glow: a… soft one? Not the blinding white from before? It’s cool, still, but not as much somehow. I wait for a voice to give me any sort of insight of where I am, and all I get back is just the gentle hum of a… a… Wait, is that a fan? No, is that a heater? Even on the hottest days outside in the real world – real because this is a fantasy, still, especially if I’m alive – it never went past room temperature. I… I’m boiling like I’m stuck in an oven.

Oh, my god. Am I being cooked in here? No, screw that. I’ll accept going out in plenty of ways in this diminutive state, but I will not go out as someone’s di—!

Well, this is… new? I finally lift my back up and open my eyes, and I’ve found myself lost… and in pain. Holy crap! Everything hurts! Ugh. But that’s the least of my worries. I’m alive, somehow, for some reason. But, why, and why here, wherever here is?

Am I crazy? This sure looks like a living room: not very different from my one at home. There’s a sofa, a table, and works of art that admittedly caught my vision immediately. I’ve liked to think that I’m not a leech for moving media, so not seeing a television or the like here is pleasing. There are dimly lit LEDs as large as me, a rug across the ground over there as large as me, and an actual fan even larger than me. Sure, it nearly takes up a whole wall like a fireplace would, but the latter would be unconventional. It’s blowing out heat, so it must switch between hot and cold. The only thing missing is a collection of literature of varying genres, but I doubt printing that small is even possible. Besides that, it’s like it was made for me.

But that’s just it. That’s fucking weird. It’s made for me, and how small am I now?

I must be going insane. This can’t be real. This room can’t possibly be mine—Oh. Oh shit.

That’s a kitchen over there behind me. A real kitchen – well, as real as it can be with its counters and cabinets. But it’s the actual cooking stuff that made it real: the primitive tools in the corner for refrigeration and cooking – some solar funnel/pot thing, I think – and the bruised yet familiar food scraps from my past life stacked in a triad of pyramids next to them. Wait, past life? I say that like it’s been forever since I was… ambushed… by someone big enough to make a place like this if they’re careful.

I’ve got to get out of here. But what is here? First things first, I should probably get my ass off the floor: this uncomfortably perfectly-sized floor.

O-Okay. Up and at it. The floor isn’t an ocean anymore. Appliances don’t have as much of a chance of killing me now. If I go this way, then I can sit at this table right here and contemplate all the dumb stuff I did to get here… wherever here is, not to mention there are enough chairs to fit a whole family or a group of housemates. Housemates. AmI alone here? Why am I here? Why do I keep asking myself these questions rather than just looking for the answer?

I’m irrational. This is irrational, but I must make the most of it. No, screw it, do I even have a choice? Well, with all these grabbable, sharp things around, I guess the answer’s technically a ‘yes.’ But. I’m not that depressed. I’m not. Not *sigh* that depressed. I’ve fought this long for others’ lives before and my own at this level, so why stop now? It’s not like I’m not used to being like this. It’s just this current situation that’s new… and heaven knows how much I love surprises… and rambling. Where was I? Oh, right.

If I go that way, now, then I can go to a surprise upstairs with who-knows-what… or who-knows-who. Would they really bunk me with someone else? I wasn’t one for strangers at full size, so how would they think I’d manage one on this scale!? They’re the ones that are short-sighted, not me. Ugh, I can’t wait to deal with that possibility. Though, maybe I don’t have to.

There’s the door. Huh.

I know I just got out of some stasis a moment ago, but it only just occurred to me that all the windows are covered and presumably closed. There seems to be no light peeking out of anywhere, either, so either it’s still nighttime, or I’m enclosed somewhere cut off from the world. No, the latter’s always going to be true here, now that I think about it. I don’t know where here is, but I do know it sure isn’t out there. There’s no use in not verifying it, though.

I guess that I shouldn’t be surprised how what should be a small door doesn’t have a lock. Yet, it has a hinge – two of them? Okay. Am I too dumb for not checking the windows? No, just crazy, but I knew that already. What’s crazier, though, is how I’m simultaneously right and wrong upon opening this door.

This is a small house, and this sure doesn’t look like a lab, a ward, and especially not that basement. To be honest, I kind of expected there to be grass or an equivalent on the ground here. Ground. I say that like this place containing me isn’t on a freaking table right now. Well, to be fair, they brought in real grass, plants, and stuff for the diorama dwellings, so I guess it’s not that weird. But those were for hundreds if not thousands of people on several stations. This is just me… and a house for me… on a table.

A table in what looks like a… a bedroom? I mean, I think I can make out the mountainous shapes of a bed, nightstands sandwiching it, and I think a dresser across from them, but it’s freaking dark in here. I’m surprised I can see that far away. Those LEDs boxed in my walls shouldn’t be able to reach that far, even if their brightness was somehow magnified through the cracks between windows and the door, yet here they are. Despite that, there’s no denying I’m in some resting place for some giant somewhere. Somewhere.

I could be freaking anywhere, but where?

I do know one thing: it’s damn fine that I don’t have a fear of heights. That helped me back there with the commons, so it’ll help me here, too. But, god, damn it, that drop is large. I bet it was intentional, along with my placement here. With the back edge cut off by the wall and the front sharply opening to this no man’s land of a room, I don’t have many options of escape.

I hear a heater running like a radiator under a window on one side of this table, and I’d rather not get burnt to cinders today. I could test my luck descending the curtains, but I don’t think I’m in proper form to climb or slide down. The opposite side is blocked by a chair in the corner. Falling onto a cushion might not be a bad idea. Maybe there’s a vent I can get through behind there. Hmm.

Screw it. I’d rather risk seeing my maker than wait for them to come to me. Chair, it is. It seems like the only way to go. But, should I take a leap of faith or weigh my options? Eh, watch with my luck, and this room’s patron comes back in and throws something atop of me – maybe even themselves. A smudge on somebody’s ass: that’s not legacy worthy. At least if I’m up here for some time, then I can probably make it back in the house and use it for even a smidgen of protection.

Hopefully.

Huh. Should I be bothered by how my steps aren’t clicking across this surface? I mean, they never did in the basement, but there were plenty of people around causing noise and whatever. Here, I’m alone… at least for now. That should be calming, shouldn’t it? Alas, as I continue forward, the curve of what-now-looks-like-an-accent-chair crests over the horizon and—

Oh, curse me.

So, I was right in being worried about possibly being suffocated to no end in colossal clothing. But, of all of them, did it have to be scrubs? I’m no color aficionado, but I do think that’s how that health-centric blue is supposed to look in this lighting—er, lack of light, I should say. Of course, they’re not just any scrubs, either. Any sensible physician would know to discard of their scrubs in at least a hamper to be washed after use or just use a new pair. These look like cast-offs like mad.

I’d put money down on them being his. That monster brought me here, didn’t here? Then, me being here would make sense: I’m where he lives or, at least, stays so he can watch me like some project.

Looking back at this rather extravagant house for a subspecies like me, who knows how much other preparation has been done since he acquired me? Is he why I’m hurt like this? Speaking of hurt, wasn’t I beeping before, and that led to all of this? It’s stopped now, and so was I, but is replacing it with pain much better? If I run away, then how do I know that the beeping won’t restart and lead to an even greater demise?

I’m curious, though, considering he could’ve ended me earlier while I was presumably incapacitated if that were his goal. But what if he may have plans for me, instead? What if he’s planning for me to run away, and that’s why he’s away, probably watching from afar? The basement had cameras whether they wanted us to know they were there or not, and I bet there’s some in here, too, with night vision, thermals, and all that other fancy gobbledygook. Ugh, it’s dark and distant in here, but damn it, I’m going to find one if it’s the last thing I—

Are you kidding me?

Do not tell me that’s been him this whole time. Him, and he’s that? Well, that’s poetic as hell, isn’t it? He was going to take me out beforeall this crap started. Now, he’s going to do me in here, instead, screwing me sideways and 1-upping me even more so.

In my visual pursuits of a camera, the last thing I expected to find was an I.D. To surprise me even more, I recognized the face on it. I remember my first time seeing it.

I was on a lunch break, just reading in my journals about Match Day – how it had been the largest amounts of matches in history or whatever – and then Doc Adams suddenly broke the fun and excitement, coming in with a list of our future interns. One of them was him. If it had been just a few years prior, then I would’ve been excited. After all, there’s nothing wrong with more doctors, right? But, Adams, the louse, has… had been trying to get me out of the doctoring game since.

It’s because he knows that I’d be better at his job than him, and the supervisors at the system H.Q. have been telling us both this. I can’t help that I love – loved– helping people directly so much to not replace it with a tedious desk job, even if it looks over pretty much everyone else in the hospital. Thus, his solution was to put more and more people in our ranks to dilute the focus away from me. It worked for a while until someone had a symptom that they didn’t know how to treat, but I did.

Despite my knowledge, this new guy was perfection, though, and from across the ocean, no less. I bet Adams creamed his pants at him on the list: this—What’s his name again? Oh, yeah: this ‘Mikul Merchant’ or whatever. I wonder how many bribes Adams had to make to get him. But that doesn’t matter now, does it? The first day for the interns would’ve been months ago, and the kid and I are both here, apparently, with him ruining my life just as much if not more so than he would’ve been without this wretched disease.

Though, if he was already on this continent way before then, then he must’ve been excited, too. After all, I’m sure his home country has its own center like this where he could’ve been. Why was he here, and how in the world did he turn out to be a carrier, too?

Upon registration, everyone is given I.D.s, but rather than having the random number sequences and barcodes the others get until they’re rendered useless by dwindling heights to where they can’t carry the damn thing, carriers’ listings are just ‘zeroes’ with a Q.R. code. I’m positive that’s how that self-deprecating squad of bugs found me and put their emotions out on and into me. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one here, so why would they charge me rather than someone like him? Well, besides his youth, foreignness, and relative handsomeness that may correlate with them, unlike me, he’s a carrier of and might as well be immune to both strains.

Curse this minute minutia. Curse my imperfections. But, most importantly, screw this—!

*CLICK* God, no.

Before I can even blink, a beam of light blinds me, revealing the previously dark side of the room and thus allowing me to see that this isn’t just a bedroom but more like a hotel room. A vanity adjacent to a closed closet appears. It’s spanning across the wall opposite me, this table and chair, that house of mine, and the window. How I didn’t see the reflection of this house in the mirror beforehand is beside me. But, no other reflection aside from my own hasn’t yet come into view, which makes me wonder if this is genuinely that giant’s room.

I know I used to come across my team’s scrubs in my office on occasion, so who’s to say that a lead person isn’t just keeping subject/’Doctor’ Merchant’s clothing with them for testing or safekeeping? Though, I don’t think that just throwing them across a chair shows its direct importance or proper sanitation practices. Or, maybe there’s another type of experiment going on. Perhaps it’s just dealing with me and what I do in this new location? Either way, that doesn’t answer whose room this is or why—

Never mind. There, he is. I’m here with him. I should stop doubting myself. No, this is the one time I should challenge anything and everything I’ve ever known.

Emerging from what I assume is a bathroom, a lanky, lean embodiment of a supposed human comes through. Supposed. Humans aren’t meant to be that large. It’s almost godly – the glow of his mostly bare, solely-pants-wearing, towel-draping-necked form – but I’m not glorifying a monster, checking his face and onyx hair over the sink and counter like he hasn’t done anything wrong. His auburn skin with no marks in sight is so nourished like he’s been able to bathe sensibly and get proper sunlight. There’s not one eye bag or wrinkle like he’s never had a single stressor in his life: the pampered, pompous prick. I’d almost say he’s prettier in person, but beasts are never pretty.

If you’re here, then you should be under all the stresses. Yet, here you are, flouncing around almost naked like you aren’t contracted with and spreading disease! If that’s the case, then why the hell am I here, trapped with you—!?

You… You… You’ve got to be kidding me. I mean, it was only a matter of time, but… don’t fucking dare.

Before I can even comprehend it, his almond gaze snaps on me like a locked crosshair in a gun’s sight. I try freezing in place, but I’m sure the vanity lights are making my eyes glow like a beady animal’s, so it’s all in vain. Aside from that, I didn’t think he had even noticed me at first, but then he had squinted his eyes and cocked his head like an inquisitive dog trying to hear. Just to test my luck, he even acknowledges me… or whatever he thinks I am if he doesn’t know for sure for some reason,

“H-Huh?” He sounds so soft, almost… Nope, I’m not going to say that. There’s no way he actually cares. I… I’m nothing in comparison. He’s taken out souls larger and smaller than me, so what difference would I make? “Is something there?” See? ‘Something.’

I’m a thing now.

I almost thought he’d salivate for his new toy, treat, or whatever I am to him. He’s already been a predator in public upon thousands of eyes. How much craftier will he be, all alone? I’m not going to wait to find out. Even if that’s what he’s expecting me to do, I don’t care. It’s fight-or-flight, and the former is definitely out of the question.

“W-Wait!”

Like hell, I’m doing that.

#g/t #my writing #patients zero #giant male #sm #male giant #medical fic #pandemics on my mind lmao

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captainjanegay · 4 years

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from that prompt thing: “I didn’t get soaked wet through walking to your house for you to say no to pizza. I have beer too. I know you’re sad, so let me in.” please!!

OK so. I just want you to know that it’s the first thing I’ve written in... a while. A looong while. Also since you haven’t include a ship, I let myself write NiallTom for the first time ever. I’ve been lowkey obsessed about them for a while and tried to write a fic but got stuck and I wanted to at least do a prompt for them. Also somehow it turned out to have almost 3k. So you see how many things could go wrong with this thingy (and they probably did). Sorry not sorry.

My Heart Dances (Niall/Tom Holland, 2.6k, fluff, mostly)

Since Harrison escorted him to his home and planted him on the couch, Tom hasn't moved an inch. In his defence, he was ordered not to walk if he didn't have to. For the last two hours or so he's been dozing off and stirring himself awake every few minutes. The pain isn’t so bad, but it still makes him wince if he moves the wrong way. Tom is glad that Haz listened to him earlier, when Tom asked his friend to leave as soon as he was safely placed on the sofa. Maybe there was more snapping at his poor friend who just wanted to help, than there was polite asking, but Tom had the right to be bitchy. What he needs now is to be miserable and alone. Or well, not exactly alone, since Tessa is curled up next to him on the tiny couch. With her snout on his stomach, she hasn't moved since Tom stumbled home.

His eyes start to drop again and he feels like this time the tiredness will finally win. But then there is a quiet knock at the door. Tom blinks, letting out a small sigh and Tessa raises her head, looking across the room. After giving it a moment of thought, Tom decides to ignore whoever’s on the other side. It’s probably Harrison. If ignored for too long, his friend will probably let himself in with the spare key Tom gave him at some point.

A minute passes and there’s more knocking and then a voice that makes Tom’s heart skip a beat. “Tom? Come on, I know you’re there.”

Tessa lets out a happy bark and runs towards the door, her nails scraping on the floor.

“Hello, Tess,” Niall says through the door. “Can you please go and drag him out of bed for me? I know he listens to you, pretty girl.”

Tessa barks in response, jumping at the door and then runs back to Tom. Her big eyes are trained on him as she lets out a single bark that sounds a bit demanding. It actually makes Tom chuckle under his breath.

Another soft knock is followed by Niall’s, “Please, Tom. I know what happened, Harrison told me.”

Tom only sighs and rubs at his forehead. He knew that Niall would worry and he also knew that Haz will be rubbish at keeping his mouth shut. It’s not really like Tom didn’t want Niall to know what happened. But the more Tom thought about it, he realised that he may have overreacted a bit. After all, it is only a mildly sprained ankle and Tom will be back on the dancefloor soon enough. But it also is the worst possible time for any injury. So he had all the rights be overly emotional and full on crying when he stumbled into the pub next to his dance studio. Tom just hoped he’d quickly find Harrison and ask his friend to drive him to the hospital. But of course it was Niall who has spotted him first. He basically run around the counter, ignoring the customer and within a second he was putting his arm around Tom, leading him toward the nearest chair. Tom was in too much pain - both physical and emotional - to answer any of Niall’s questions and he just asked if he could get Harrison. Then they left and Tom didn’t even say goodbye, which was kind of a dick move since Niall was obviously worried.

It was shit to learn that you’ll probably lose your first role in the bloody English National Ballet production due to an injury. It was also shit to be seen by the man you fancy while your are covered in your own tears and probably some snot as well.

So Tom may be a bit embarrassed and he isn’t sure if he is ready to face Niall yet. Or anyone.

Tessa barks at him once more, apparently disappointed in his behaviour. She toddles around back to the door where Niall is still tapping in some rhythm. Persistent, that one, Tom thinks and can’t stop a small smile that appears on his face.

“Come on, babe. I didn’t get soaked wet through walking to your house for you to say no to pizza. I have beer too. I know you’re sad, so let me in.”

Niall’s voice is soft and sweet and Tom knows he’ll give up in a second or two. He’s not heartless, after all. And all his dignity has already been lost, so he probably can’t embarass himself any further.

There is a slightly bigger, more muffled thud, which - Tom guesses - can be Niall resting his head against the door and then he says, “You know that I won’t go away, so you could just let me in.”

Biting at his lower lip, Tom carefully slides off the couch. Trying not to hurt his ankle any more, he reaches for the crutch abandoned beside the couch.

He guesses he might’ve made some noise, because on the other side of the door there’s an excited gasp as Niall says, “Can it be, Tessa? Did we make it?! I knew you’re my only hope to get that silly git moving!”

Tom shakes his head at that, but he’s smiling. “Don’t insult me, Niall. It will take awhile for me to get there, so I still have plenty of time to change my mind.”

“I’m glad you’re better, love,” Niall laughs and Tom ignores the somersault his insides do at the pet name. He got used to the fact that Niall’s affectionate like this with everyone.

When he finally manages to stumble close enough to unlock the door, he’s a bit winded. Which is embarrassing considering that his studio is basically one open room with a living room/bedroom and a kitchenette/hall combo. Even these dozen steps he had to make can be a challenge when one of your legs are useless.

It was worth it, Tom decides when he is rewarder by Niall’s bright smile. He really is soaking wet, his eyes are soft and filled with worry when he looks at Tom and his smile is warm and genuine. Tom is too preoccupied by staring at Niall’s face to notice that he is holding a huge box of pizza in one hand and a bunch of beers in the other. Tessa, on the other hand, seems much more interested in the smell of salami that came with the guest than in the guest himself. Niall grins down at her when she rests his paws on his belly, trying to reach the box.

“Yeah, I’m glad to see you too, girl. If you’d let me in, I promise to share the treats,” Niall says, raising the box out of her reach.

“Shit, sorry. Lemme just...” Tom says, reaching out to take the things from Niall.

Quite quickly it turns out that it wasn’t the wisest idea. When Tom loosens his grip on the crutch, it slips out of his hand and falls onto the floor with a loud clatter. Trying to catch it, Tom wavers slightly and accidentally puts too much pressure on his ankle. He lets out a yelp of pain and grabs at Niall’s arm, already ready to steady him.

Somehow Niall has managed to free his hands in those few seconds and one of his arms is already placed gently around Tom’s waist. “I’ve got ya,” Niall says with a small smile.

Tom feels lightheaded but he blames it on the burst of pain in his leg and not on the little dimple on Niall’s cheek. Niall completely ignores Tom’s objections and leads him back to the couch. A few moments later the small table in front of him is stacked with plates, pizza, beer and two steaming mugs of tea. Tom himself is pushed against the back of the couch, his leg put gently on a chair with a cushion to make sure he’s comfortable and with something frozen wrapped in a kitchen towel pressed to his swollen ankle. A small sigh of relief escapes his mouth as he closes his eyes for a moment and relaxes into the couch.

“Thank you,” Tom says sincerely, looking up at Niall.

Niall only shrugs, the soft smile still on his lips. It’s only then that Tom realises Niall’s hair and shirt are still damp from rain and he wants to smack himself across the head.

“Damn, I’m sorry, you must be so uncomfortable in those. Let me just—,” he makes a move to stand up, hoping he can do it with some grace.

“Na-ah,” Niall stops him. “Don’t move, you have to rest your leg. Just tell me what can I change into and I’ll manage.”

A moment later Niall comes out of the bathroom, drying his hair with the towel Tom told him to take. The shirt he picked is stretching slightly across his broad chest and Tom tries not to stare. He takes a deep breath and looks at the opposite wall when Niall drops onto the couch next to him, Tessa already nudging him to get some snuggles.

“Thank you,” Tom says after a moment. He glances at Niall and sees that he is ready to shrug it off again so he continues, “No, really. You didn’t have to come all this way in the downpour just to make sure my pathetic ass is okay.”

“You’re not pathetic, don’t even say that,” Niall says, with more seriousness that Tom expected.

“Well I did sprain my ankle just before my biggest life chance and I did weep because of it,” Tom tries to joke and he hates that his eyes prickle just at the mention of it.

Niall moves on the couch so he can face Tom. “That’s not pathetic, Tom,” he says, squeezing Tom’s arm. “I’m so sorry it happened to you and if I were in your place I would bawl my eyes out.” When Tom only snorts and shakes his head slightly, Niall adds. “Totally would! Remember when I told you about that first time I was asked to play in a pub downtown but lost my voice literally a day before? It wasn’t even a proper gig and I cried like a baby when it didn’t work out.”

Tom nods a bit absent-mindedly. “Glad there were plenty of more opportunities for you.”

He doesn’t mean to sound bitter or crabby but he’s afraid he does, a bit. Not daring to look at Niall, he focuses his eyes on his hands resting on his hips.

“Tom.”

The way Niall says his name is gentle yet firm enough to make Tom look up. Niall’s arm slides up Tom’s arm and rests on his shoulder, Niall’s thumb resting against his collarbone.

“You’re gonna have tons of chances, too. I know how huge it is for you and I’m so proud and happy you’ve got a part. It fucking sucks that you might not be able to take it. But there’s still time before rehearsals start. And the whole world is waiting for you after you recover, because you’re an incredible dancer and nothing will change that.”

Tom feels his face going warm and he wants to turn his gaze away, to hide it, but he can’t. There’s something in the way Niall’s eyes are looking at him that makes him pinned to the spot.

“You just have to take care of yourself and rest, and let your ankle heal properly. And you can bloody bet I’ll keep an eye on you to make sure you’re taking it easy.” Niall points a cautionary finger at him, making Tom laugh. “Then you will be able to go conquer the world, be the famous ballet master that you deserve to be and forget all about your wanna-be musician friend.”

Niall is still grinning at him, but Tom shakes his head, amazed.

“Not happening,” he says with a smile.

“Totally happening! Metropolitan Opera, American Ballet Theatre, Paris Opera Ballet - they’re all gonna fight for you!”

“That is…,” Tom furrows his brows and chuckles. “An interesting, yet quite improbable image. But I didn’t mean that. I meant the part about forgetting you.”

Niall’s smile flatters. “Oh?” he lets out.

“How could I? You’re… so much more than a wanna-be musician friend to me.”

With pride, Tom notices that this is Niall’s time to be flustered and blushing. He feels as if a wave of warmth is spreading through his body from where Niall’s thumb gently caresses his collarbone and it takes all his willpower to suppress a shudder. Tom watches as Niall takes a deep breath and swallows, before he glances back at Tom, just for a moment, and then turns his head.

“You know…,” Niall starts, as if he’s considering something. “It really sucks that you’ve just sprained your ankle.”

Tom furrows his eyebrows, a bit confused at this statement. He chuckles to release some tension that has built up in him and asks, “You think?”

“Yeah, cause— For quite a while I’ve been trying to work up the courage and maybe, you know… ask you out on a date or something,” Niall says trying to keep his tone casual like they’re discussing the weather. Tom’s heart is beating too loud for him to pick up the shaky note in the apparent coolness. “You not being able to walk kinda complicates things.”

Staring wide-eyed at Niall, Tom opens and closes his mouth a few times, trying to come up with anything sensible to say. After a moment he forgets about the sensible, trying to say anything at all. It feels like his brain froze. When Niall sends him a glance, Tom finally stutters, “I… What you just— You mean—?”

“What I mean,” Niall lets out a shaky chuckle and turns back to face Tom. “Is that I’ve been fancying you for quite a while and I have no idea why I am telling you this now but if you don’t believe I am the crying type, I’m probably gonna prove you wrong if you say no. That’s not emotional blackmail though, in case you were wondering, so no pressure.”

Tom shakes his head in astonishment and a surprised laugh escapes his mouth. “Shut up,” he says fondly.

“I’m trying, it’s the anxiety talking.”

Instead of answering, Tom cups Niall’s face in his hands and pulls him closer. His smile makes it hard to place a kiss on Niall’s lips but he eventually manages to do that. Niall leans away, just a bit and blinks, his face still so close that Tom could count his freckles if his eyes weren’t skipping from his eyes to his lips and back. A slow, bright smile blooms on Niall’s face and he moves his hand so his thumb traces the line of Tom’s jaw when they kiss again. And again. Tom tries to shift on the couch to get a better angle, but he hisses in pain when he accidentally moves his ankle.

“See?” Niall pulls away after one more kiss. “This is what I meant when I said you’re complicating things.”

His dimpled smile and fondness in his eyes make it obvious that he is far from being serious. Trying to safely move his leg into the previous position, Tom laughs and shakes his head.

“I think you’re starting off on the wrong foot blaming me like this already, Horan.”

“Well, I can make it up to you by making sure you’ll soon be able to go for that date with me, Holland. And by providing more smooches along the way.” Niall says.

“Smooches?” Tom raises an eyebrow at the word choice.

“Loads of them,” Niall grins, leaning towards Tom again.

#nialltom #niall #tom holland #fic #my writings #it's been so long i've actually forgotten my writing tag #ah well #i don't know what it is #tried to check for typos #but it's 2.40am #an if i won't post it now #i'm gonna chicken out and pretend i've never written anything in my life #so... yeah #enjoy #dinoflangellate

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queen-archeron · 6 years

Text

Memories & Mistletoe

Thank you @rowaelinsmut for being my beta on this!❤︎

Nesta tried to look like she was enjoying herself, she really did, but trying apparently wasn’t enough for Feyre. Her younger sister had been shooting her warning glares from where she sat cuddled up by her mate’s side across the room. Nesta would only glare back at her and turn away each time.

It was the first Christmas Nesta and her sisters were spending in Velaris, and the entire Inner Circle had gathered at the House of Wind for some eating and gift giving. So far, they had only gotten done with the eating portion of their plan, but Nesta kept her eyes on the wrapped presents below the small tree at the front of the room.

She was never one for parties or family gatherings, especially with this many people. Her sisters seemed to be having a great time getting along with everyone, but Nesta sat in silence on a chair in the corner of the room, simply watching everyone enjoy themselves.

She and Cassian had made eye contact several times throughout the night, and every time it happened, her heart skipped a beat and her face would get a light blush. They hadn’t had a proper conversation since the war, and Nesta didn’t plan on having one anytime soon.

It wasn’t that she was nervous—well…yes, that’s exactly what it was.

Something about that overgrown bat drew her to him, as if there was an invisible wire between them that was trying to pull them closer and closer together. She, however, was fighting that pull with everything in her.

“Nesta,” Elain called, snapping her out of her thoughts. Nesta glanced at her sister where she was seated by one of the oversized bats and smiled sweetly, hoping to give the illusion of having fun on her face.

“Yes?”

“It’s your turn to tell a story.” Elain was grinning from ear to ear, and Nesta felt like an awful person in that moment for having no idea what was going on.

She awkwardly looked around the room, skipping over Cassian and cleared her throat. “Uh, what kind of story?”

Feyre rolled her eyes and buried her face in Rhys’s shoulder, but Nesta ignored the gesture and waited for Elain to respond.

“You can tell any story you’d like—something funny, something that makes you happy, something—“

Nesta smiled and waved her hand to stop her younger sister. She had the perfect story, one she knew would make her sisters laugh.

“Okay, so do you guys remember that night a few years ago when Feyre brought home our first Christmas tree?”

She saw Cassian’s gaze harden, and she even glanced to where Feyre was to see Rhys looking down at his feet. She knew the mention of Feyre bringing the tree reminded them of what she went through for them, reminded them of everything Nesta could have done but never did.

Her sisters were the only ones who looked at her with amusement in their eyes and a smile on their faces. “We remember,” Feyre murmured, now looking at Nesta.

“We started to put the lights and ornaments on, and Feyre, you said you would put the star on top. Elain was holding the bottom of the tree while you climbed up a few branches to reach, and the entire tree fell over and landed right on top of all three of us. As painful as it was, that was one of the best nights I ever had in that house. We had all been laughing and getting along, and it was just…great.”

Feyre stood from her spot next to Rhys and walked over to where Nesta sat in her chair. She pulled her up and wrapped her arms around her tightly, and Nesta didn’t hesitate to do the same back.

“I love you,” Feyre whispered, and Nesta held her tighter.

Elain walked up to them and joined the hug, and soon they were all a giggling mess as they remembered that night with the tree.

“I love you guys so much,” Nesta said, her eyes burning as they finally pulled away to look at each other.

“We love you, too,” Elain murmured before turning around and going back to her seat next to Azriel, who was smiling softly.

Rhys grabbed Feyre’s hand and pulled her close as she settled herself against him, and Nesta watched from where she was curled into a ball, alone in her own chair. She listened as Mor began to tell a story, and settled herself further into the soft cushions.

She made the mistake of glancing at Cassian again, and found him looking at her with…admiration on his face. This time, Nesta didn’t look away, and instead she looked back at him, unwilling to lose this staring contest. His intense expression turned to one of amusement, and his lips curled up at the corners.

Nesta’s eyes moved to those lips, the lips she had kissed once before. She remembered how soft they were, how natural they felt against her own. Everything around her started to fade, until all she could see was Cassian leaning against the wall across the room.

She could almost hear the distant screams of the dying, could almost see the blood coating the front of his tunic like it had been on that dreadful day. Her heart ached and she didn’t even realize she was crying until a tear slipped down her cheek and brought her back to reality.

Luckily, Mor was still speaking, and no one had seen the tear that Nesta quickly wiped away.

No one except Cassian, who was staring after her, concern marring his features. Nesta didn’t want to deal with his gaze any longer, so she stood from her chair and muttered, “I need some air.”

She didn’t wait for anyone to respond as she walked out of the room and through the halls, until she spotted an open balcony door.

The cool air bit at her skin as she stepped up to the railing, her fingers gripping it like it was her lifeline. She could see all of Velaris from where she stood, and the city was full of life below. People were dancing on the streets, and some appeared to be singing in front of the many shoppes. She had never seen a place look so…alive.

Her fae hearing picked up the sound of the door shutting behind her, and she whirled to find Cassian staring down at her. His gaze moved to the city behind her, and he let out a sigh of what seemed like relief.

“If I had to watch Rhysand having eye sex with Feyre any longer, I might have puked,” he joked, walking up to the open spot next to her. She didn’t laugh, not when her mind was still clouded with the images from battle.

“I’m sorry, for not reaching out to you before. I’ve been avoiding the hell out of you ever since that day, and I…I can’t do it anymore.” His voice cracked, and she could feel his eyes on her even as she stared straight ahead, into the night. He didn’t have to clarify what day he was talking about. They both knew.

“I’ve been avoiding you, too. You aren’t the only one to blame,” she muttered, her eyes moving to meet his briefly. “I’m sorry.”

Cassian swallowed and she looked down at her hands that still rested on the railing. They were both silent for a moment, just taking in the cool breeze around them, the distant sound of music from Velaris.

“What do we have, Cassian?” The question had been preoccupying her thoughts for what seemed like years. That pull between them…it wasn’t normal. Deep down, she knew exactly what it was, but she wanted to hear him say it first.

She heard his breath hitch, and he shifted uncomfortably next to her. “That’s something I’m not willing to tell you right now.”

She didn’t push it, because she wasn’t sure she could handle that tonight. They had been through a lot, and yet, she wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment.

Yet.

“You’re a good man, Cassian,” she started, turning away from the railing to face him. “I’m sorry for being a bitch to you all the time.”

He chuckled at that, a sound that warmed her heart, and stepped closer to her.

“And I’m sorry for being a constant pain in your ass.”

The smile that formed on her lips was real—something she hadn’t had in a long while. A hand moved under her chin, and Cassian tilted her head up so she faced him fully.

“I love your smile,” he whispered, and she didn’t dare look away from his gaze…until her eyes caught on something above them.

Mistletoe. Great.

Before she could distract him, Cassian’s eyes tracked her gaze, and he smirked when he saw the plant hanging above their heads. “Seems Rhysand likes to over decorate sometimes.”

He didn’t remove his hand from her chin, and she didn’t try to move away. Her entire mind was centered around his lips now, the lips she had been dying to kiss again since the war.

“Kiss me,” she murmured before she could rethink it. But she didn’t regret her words as Cassian finally closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against hers.

It was exactly as she remembered it—natural. His lips were so soft against her own, and everything around them came to a sudden stop until it was only her and him, and nothing else mattered. His hand slid from under her chin to cup her jaw, gently pulling her face closer to his.

The cold air was long forgotten as she brought her hands to his face, brushing her thumbs along the smooth skin. The hand that wasn’t on her jaw moved to wrap around her waist, and she pressed her lips harder against his, needing more of him.

His body tensed when she brushed her tongue along his bottom lip, but he immediately opened his mouth and granted her entrance. It became a dance, the way he brushed his tongue against hers, and her hands quickly moved from his face to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer until she could barely breathe.

What had started as an innocent kiss, had now turned into a rushed, frantic one. Their hands roamed each other’s bodies as if they had to memorize every dip and curve, like they didn’t have all the time in the world and needed each other now. Nesta couldn’t help the release of her moans against his mouth.

Cassian brought his hands back up to her face when her hands began to fist in his shirt, and he slowly pulled away, not taking his eyes off of her own for even a second.

“Sweetheart…” He trailed off, and she continued to catch her breath as she watched him.

“I suppose this means that things are…okay between us?” It was a stupid question, but she wanted to be sure with him.

A breathless laugh escaped him, and he drew her close enough to brush his nose against hers. “I think we’re better than okay.”

She couldn’t stop the smile that stretched across her face, and she rested her hands against his chest, pushing away enough to see his entire face. He would always be the most beautiful male she had ever seen, but right then, he was breathtaking.

“The others are probably wondering where we are,” she said, glancing towards the door as if she could see through the walls to where their friends were still gathered. Cassian tightened his grip on her waist and grinned.

“I think they know.”

She shoved him away with a half-hearted snarl, but it only made him laugh. “This is so embarrassing,” she muttered.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it,” he teased, and she rolled her eyes and looked back at Velaris, the city that was still full of life.

Cassian had managed to make her heart feel like it was never broken, and she looked forward to keeping it that way for eternity. But mostly, she looked forward to spending that eternity with him.

#my writing #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #nessian fanfiction #acotar #acomaf #acowar #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin

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